“Yeah, bud. It’s me. Can you hear me?”
I nod, I think, though my heart still runs its marathon inside my chest.
Why won’t it slow?
My face feels wet. Chilled, though it’s hot as balls out here.
I’m shaking.Why am I shaking?
“C’mon, man. Just listen to me, yeah?”
My chest pumps wildly with my breath.
I hold it and itburns.
Feels overfull like I’ve already been holding it. Like I’ve been below the surface for too long and there’s no way up.
Like I’m drowning in my own head.
“Okay, let it out.”
The breath rushes and I’m gasping in the next.
My ears whoosh and I blink back the tears from my eyes.
“And another,” Hatley demands, his stupid face filling my clearing vision. His brow is pinched, and his forehead is lined and dirt-smeared.
I wheeze out another and swallow against the sand coating my throat.
“You back?”
Panting, I give a tentative nod.
“Welcome to your party, fool.”
I lick my dried lips and tip my chin in the direction of his busted cheek. “You got something on your face.”
Hatley bursts out laughing and fists my uniform front, pulling me up to shaking legs. He even throws an arm around my ribs to hold me up as we make it to the passenger side of the bus, Hat waving off the gathering of staff that offer to help.
By the time the door opens, I feel weighted. Exhausted. Like I’ve gained seven thousand pounds and have been carrying it around with me for eternity.
“Just needs some sleep. Running on fumes and panic apparently,” Hatley tells the crowd that watch on wearily.
My half grin is slow and difficult, my limbs near useless as Hat loads me into the seat.
“There’s not even a disco,” I say slowly.
He slams me in and stands on the other side of the window, shaking his head with a grin. I watch in slow motion as he waves to the bystanders, who wave back, and rounds the hood of the bus faster than my brain can catch up.
“I’m not gonna ask,” Hat says softly over the sound of his music playing low. But then we’re stopping and he’s looking at me like he’sconcerned.
Why is he concerned?
“So serious,” I mumble through the marbles in my mouth and attempt to boop his nose, but I miss by a mile.
I’m dogass tired.
Is our shift over?
